Change
by JustMeJustMeJustMe
Summary: Jac/Fletch set pre-Ache.


First ever FanFiction so please be kind! Set before Ache!

Change

The funny thing about change is that you never see it coming. It sneaks up on you and you only realize at the last possible moment that everything you've become reliant upon can be taken away in a split second. It sneaks up on you so fast that there is literally not a single thing that you can do to derail it from its track.

Change is inevitable, but that doesn't mean she has to like it.

"Saturday. I think we should put a pin in it. Keep this professional." He'd said before walking away from her.

She hadn't seen it coming.

She could feel the ground slowly crumbling away pulling the proverbial rug out from underneath her.

Here it was. A change. A shift. A move in a different direction.

It had been nearly a week since it had happened and she was already feeling the consequences of it. He was no longer coming in to her office just to talk, to tell her about his day, to check on her or to tell her some anecdote in an overly enthusiastic manner to which she just couldn't help but smile. She was sure Petrenko must have noticed the new atmosphere filling Darwin. It was thick and toxic. She hadn't said anything but she was certain she hadn't missed the new dynamic.

He was no longer trying to catch her eye when they passed each other in the corridor or at the nurses station. In fact she was pretty sure he was outright avoiding her whenever possible. When he did approach her, because he had no choice, he was completely composed and totally professional. Detached even. He'd stopped touching her, stopped moving into her space, stopped texting her, hell, he'd even stopped smiling at her. As much as she hated to admit it. She missed it. She missed him.

She had hoped it would simply blow over and things would slowly return to normal, but in every passing day the anxiety that was building inside her was telling her otherwise. She wasn't sure there was a way back.

She couldn't really understand what had happened. They had managed to move quickly past any prior disagreement but this one had seemed different somehow. It had touched a nerve and they had both frayed at the edges, then he'd said "Saturday. I think we should put a pin in it. Keep this professional." The nerve snapped. She hadn't even replied. Only nodded. She had nothing to say.

Those few words had stung.

She really didn't know what he had wanted from her in that moment. Couldn't fathom why he seemed so frustrated barely containing his annoyance over a decision she'd made more than three months ago. She tries hard to convince herself that everything else that had happened in between had to count for something.

She sighs and resolves to not think about it for the rest of the evening.

She is sitting on the sofa, legs curled underneath her, impatiently tapping the screen of her phone with her index finger. She feels the need to rant at someone, anyone to release the anxiety that is washing over her but she's alone in her empty house.

She grabs the iPad and opens up her emails hoping to distract herself for just a few minutes, she's barely halfway through the title of the first email when her eyes are drawn back to the phone that is pressed against her thigh on sofa next to her. Another sigh escapes her lips and she wonders if it's possible to get on your own nerves because she seems to be doing a fine job of it.

She really doesn't know how or when she'd allowed herself to get so attached to him in the first place. She can't pinpoint the exact moment when she had let her guard drop to allow him to infiltrate past her highly reinforced defenses. Now he was in though, if she was honest with herself she didn't want him to leave. For some reason the whole situation reminds her of the fable about the frog and boiling water. She hadn't sensed the danger and by the time it was boiling it was too late. She laughs but it's humorless because she doesn't think this is funny at all.

She grabs the phone and begins to tap out a message then deletes it. That bubbling anxiety is back and she's pretty sure it isn't going to go away until something else changes or worst still breaks.

She heads to the kitchen, grabs a cup of coffee.

She's off work for the rest of the week. Yesterday Petrenko had insisted she take the time otherwise she'd have no choice but to report her. She can't blame her really. She accepts she needs time off, she simply doesn't want it. Time off just gives her the opportunity to stew in her own annoyance. The pain has subsided so the only thing she has to really focus on is him. She wishes Emma was home. She'd be a welcome happy distraction.

He'd had the opportunity to kiss her that evening in her office, but he didn't. Instead he had told her he needed to get changed. If he had, she would have let him. Even with the door wide open. She wonders why he didn't and she can't help but shake the feeling that perhaps this was the catalyst to everything else that had followed.

She knew why she stayed. She stayed because she wanted to help. To help him grieve for Raf, to help the hospital stay afloat as they were almost completely out of CT Surgeons, and to help herself move forward rather than simply running away. She supposes she could have just told him but words had failed her at the time and her decision was insignificant once she'd changed her mind. She hadn't even considered leaving since.

She glances at the clock. 6pm. He'd just be getting ready to head home.

The now cold cup of coffee which is still in her hand is untouched. She'd not even managed to have a single mouthful. She places the cup in the sink takes a deep breath and walks back to the living room.

"Saturday. I think we should put a pin in it. Keep this professional." The words ring in her head again. It's the 'put a pin it' that's really bothering her. It's a phrase that if used correctly suggests that an idea be put aside for now, saved for later. The reality is that she's only really ever seen it used in meetings by management to sidestep an idea or issue that they really do not want to discuss again. They hope that by saying 'put a pin in it' that it will never be brought up again. She groans with frustration and wonders if that is what he is hoping for too. Her phone is still exactly where she left it. She almost feels like it's taunting her a bit.

She flops down on the sofa heavily. Picks up the iPad and orders a pizza. She isn't in the mood to cook but figures she has to eat something.

Twenty minutes later the door bell rings, she grabs the cash from her purse and heads for the door. She opens it and sees Fletch standing on her doorstep with his back to her. He is looking out over the street.

"You're not my usual pizza delivery boy" she says.

He turns around and looks shocked by her appearance. His eyes travel from her face right down to her legs and back up. She's wearing a pair of light grey tracksuit bottoms and a white T-shirt, not her usual workwear. She notices a small smile play on his lips for a second before it disappears and he is all business again.

"I just wanted to check if you were okay?" He's ignored her earlier attempt at humor. "Freida said you wasn't coming in for the rest of the week?"

"I'm fine." She replies.

"You going to invite me in?" He asks.

"Wasn't planning on it."

He looks away and the disappointment is clearly visible on his face. A sudden stab of guilt hits her and shes not sure if she's more annoyed at him or herself and she closes the door.

She's still in the hallway leaning back against the wall. Her eyes are filled with unshed tears, and once again the anxiety is bubbling up inside her. This time threatening to spill over. She takes a gasping breath, then another and tries to calm her thumping heart. She stands there dead still for a minute, listening intensively to see if she can hear his car engine start up.

The doorbell rings again.

She moves off the wall and pulls the door open for the second time in less than 5 minutes. It's Fletch, but this time he looks angry.

His eyes lock on to hers and she can tell that he is about to launch in to some sort of rant but stops dead in his tracks. Everything stops. His mouth clamps shut and now he is just staring into her eyes. He has obviously spotted the unshed tears and the emotions she's now unabashedly displaying. He doesn't move and she wonders what he had been about to say.

"What do you want Fletch?" She asks, more angrily than she intended.

He says nothing. Just keeps staring at her. She looks away down the street, anything to take her eyes away from his scrutinizing gaze.

"You." It's barely above a whisper and she's not even sure she's heard him correctly.

"What?" Her eyes snap back to his disbelievingly. He visibly flinches at her harsh tone.

"Erm..Nothing. I've gotta go." He replies. He starts to turn away. Instinctively her hand reaches out to grab the sleeve of his coat and she holds on to it. He stops, looks startled at the hand on his arm and turns back to her questioningly, almost hopeful.

This time it's her turn to say nothing. She's dumbfounded and the ridiculousness of the situation dawns on her. She lets her hand drop from his coat sleeve and looks away from his face just to the left over his shoulder.

He starts to turn away again, moves about a single step and once again she is gripping his coat sleeve with her hand preventing him from moving any further.

"Jac." He says softly.

She's kicking herself internally. She doesn't know why she can't seem to let him go. Her hand seems to be running a coup d'etat against her and is outright refusing to disengage.

"I….." is all she manages as a response.

He turns around fully to face her and their eyes meet again, this time though she sees the emotions she's feeling in his eyes. He is just as afraid as she is. They both have kids, they work together. They could make a big mess of it all, and with her history that may be more than likely.

Suddenly he is moving towards her. A single step and he is totally occupying her personal space. His hands find her waist and she feels him lightly squeeze her. He seems to be studying her for any sign that she doesn't want this but appears satisfied that there is none. She wants to reach out and touch him but holds his gaze instead. His eyes drop to her lips and back up. He inches closer still and his mouth is hovering millimeters from hers. She's afraid to breathe in case it breaks the spell. She's not sure what he is waiting for but the anticipation is making her feel antsy.

"I want you." He says, clearly and confidently but still practically a whisper.

She moves, closing the remaining space between them and then she's kissing him. It's warm, heady and filled with more urgency than she expected. She can feel his hands moving on her lower back tugging her closer as her arms wrap around his neck. She wants him, wants to show him she wants him. She drags him towards her so she can kick the door shut and mumbles in to his lips.

"Bedroom."

He pushes her into the wall instead. The same one she'd been gasping for air against just a few minutes earlier with tears in her eyes. She's pretty sure they aren't going to make it up the stairs. She's already removed his coat, cast it haphazardly to the floor, and now her hands are tugging open the buttons on his shirt, while his hands have worked there way up under her T-shirt to touch her bare skin. It's clearly not enough because seconds later he is pulling the T-shirt upwards breaking their kiss for a few seconds to pull it off over her head. She figures she's going to be gasping against the wall again shortly, but this time for an entirely different reason.

The doorbell rings.

"Damn. That'll be my pizza."

Change is inevitable, this time though she was happy to accept it.


End file.
